Your Own Good
by WrenClayton
Summary: Sam's big brother takes care of him. Dean finds them places to sleep and he somehow gets enough food to keep their bellies on this side of empty. Now if only the police would leave them alone. It wasn't Dean's fault he had to kill people. Wincest serial killer AU. Warnings: Underage (Sam's 14), abusive relationship, murder, violence, gore, knifeplay, dubcon, stockholm syndrome.


The cement floor spun under Sam's feet. It was all he could do to keep running. Getting his feet to move in a straight line was too much to ask for with all the terror pounding through his head like this.

He heard Dean's voice. It anchored him.

"Sam! Come on, Sammy, we've gotta keep going!"

There was a strong hand grabbing his arm, pulling him onwards. Sam latched onto the safety of Dean's eyes, Dean's calloused fingers wrapped around his wrist. Dean was security, stability, the only good thing in Sam's life. The sight of him helped Sam find words through his choking terror.

"Was - was that a cop?"

Under his mask of stoicism, Dean looked almost as scared as Sam was. "Yeah, he was, that's why we've gotta get the hell out of here!"

Sam gripped Dean's arm tighter. "Are you sure you killed him?"

"He's not walking away from a knife in his throat!" Dean was panting as he ran. "He might have had a partner, though, so we need to clear out fast!"

Sam clenched his teeth and willed himself to run faster, letting go of Dean's arm and keeping stride next to him. He knew what would happen if the police found them. They'd take Dean away. They'd take his world away. He'd never see his brother again.

Dean had said they'd be safe here. He said this warehouse was abandoned, that they could stay here and live off of rats and shoplifted candy bars until Dean found a more sustainable way to get food. Dean and Sam couldn't just walk into a store and purchase food, not with their faces showing up on every television in town just above the words _wanted _and _kidnapped, _respectively.

Sam hated that everyone assumed Dean had kidnapped him. Like he had to be forced to be at his brother's side, like there was anywhere else he'd rather be. Like he'd even matter without his brother. No one understood at all. He wished people would just leave them alone. Dean wouldn't have to keep killing people if people would just leave them alone.

Sam didn't mind the bad, sparse food, didn't mind sleeping on a bed of dead leaves in an abandoned warehouse. He was sleeping there with Dean, and that was what mattered. As long as Dean was there to hold him and kiss him and touch him and say "baby boy" while slowly thrusting into him, Sam could put up with anything.

They would have been _fine _if it weren't for that pair of teenagers. Smitten and giggling, they stumbled through the warehouse and kissed, hissing excitedly about how they shouldn't be there. Dean had herded Sam away from them, told Sam that if they just stayed quiet and out of sight, the teenagers would leave and everything would be fine. But when the amorous pair found Sam and Dean's little living space, they stopped kissing and started giving each other wide-eyed looks. They poked around and said absolutely terrifying things like, "Do you think someone lives here?" "Should we call the police?"

They shouldn't have talked about calling the police.

Dean had no choice at that point. Neither of the teenagers walked back out of the warehouse.

As soon as he saw blood spilling on the floor, Sam knew that he and Dean would have to leave. The police always came after someone died. He didn't want to leave - the warehouse was a nice place, quiet and remote, and it was starting to feel like home - but Dean had taught him better. Cops were the most dangerous thing in the world, they wanted Dean dead and they wanted Sam to never see him again, wanted to leave Sam alone in the world with no brother and no love.

So when the teenagers were cold and lifeless on the floor, Sam had started gathering up their few belongings, expecting to have to run immediately.

Dean had placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder, turning him around.

"No one will notice they're gone for at least a day. We've got a little bit of time, Sammy."

Dean wanted to stay for one more night to build up rations. He told Sam to leave the room with the bodies for an hour or two. Sam didn't ask questions, and by the time he was curled up in Dean's lap with the first truly full belly he'd had in months, he didn't care what the answers were.

But someone _had _noticed that the teenagers were missing. Or someone must have, because in the morning, Sam and Dean woke up to the sound of cops moving through the warehouse.

"Sam - Sammy, come on, keep up!"

Sam panted as he followed Dean through the dark, dusty corridors of the warehouse, past exposed pipes and rusted valves and big canisters of unknown substances, the labels long since peeled off or faded. All he could hear was the thumping of his and Dean's footsteps on the cement floors, the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears -

"_Freeze_!"

Dean skidded to a stop and threw out an arm to stop Sam. A woman in uniform had jumped out from behind a corner, raising a gun, pointing it at Dean -

"No - !" Sam shoved himself in front of Dean, keeping his body between his brother's and the barrel of that gun. "Stop, don't shoot him!"

The policewoman's eyes had gone wide. From the look on her face, Sam could tell she had recognized them from the news.

"Sam Winchester?" she asked, more gently than before. "It's okay. I have no need to use my gun if you cooperate."

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, pulling him close. "She doesn't plan on letting me live, Sammy."

Sam swallowed. "J-just leave us alone. That's all we want."

"You don't have to live like this, Sam." The police woman's eyes kept flicking between his face and Dean's, clearly waiting to see if she could get a clean shot off. "You need help. You can still get out of this life. There are people who will help you, people who will take care of you until you find your feet."

Dean's breath was warm on Sam's neck. "No one's going to love you like I do," he whispered. The heat of his body was pressed up against Sam's back, and his hand slid down Sam's stomach. "No one can."

"Just hold still, kid, okay?" the policewoman continued. She took a hand off her gun and reached for her radio, muttering something into it that definitely contained the phrase "requesting backup."

Sam nearly panicked. "D-don't call anyone else! We just want to leave!"

"I don't want your brother to hurt you, Sam. I'm just making sure he doesn't hurt you."

Sam's heart was racing. He tried to think. Slowly, he slid a hand into his pocket, wrapping it around the smoothness of his pocket knife. Dean's knife was lost, buried in the neck of the other cop, but Sam's was still here. The policewoman tensed when she saw Sam pull it out.

"Kid - just toss that over here - "

Shaking, Sam reached back, and pressed the knife into Dean's hand. Dean kissed the back of his neck, taking it from him and flicking it open.

"Good boy, Sammy."

Sam shuddered when he felt the cold steel press gently against his throat. Dean's grip around his waist tightened, pinning him in place so he couldn't have pulled away from the knife if he tried.

"All right," Dean said sharply, addressing the policewoman. "The first thing you're going to do is slide your gun over here."

The woman's jaw was tense. Her eyes were locked on the knife at Sam's throat. "There's no need for violence. I'm not going to hurt your brother."

"Oh, _you_ won't. _I_ will." Sam could feel Dean's smile. "The gun, please."

A muscle flicked in the policewoman's jaw, and she grudgingly lowered her gun. She clicked the safety on before kneeling down and shoving it across the floor. It stopped just in front of Sam's toes.

"Good." Dean rubbed his free hand comfortingly over Sam's stomach. "Now phone up your buddies and tell them we've left the building. Say we're heading south, through the woods."

"Why don't you think carefully about this, Dean," the woman urged, clearly fighting to keep her voice gentle. "I know you care about your brother. Don't you want him to have a better life than this?"

Dean's lip curled. "Yeah, I do. I'd like to be able to walk into a store and buy him food without being _arrested._"

"You did that to yourself, Dean. You don't have to drag him down with you." The woman advanced a step, and Dean's grip on Sam tightened.

"Not a step closer."

"You don't want to hurt your brother, Dean." The policewoman took another step. "I know you don't. Just put the knife down and - "

Sam cried out when the knife sliced down across his collar bone, opening up a shallow cut that stung and dribbled blood.

The policewoman froze, raising her hands apologetically. She took a step back and Dean's grip on the knife loosened.

"Good," he murmured, letting his free hand slide down Sam's thigh, stroking his leg through the jeans. "Now call up your backup and tell them we're heading south. No code words or anything. Just, 'The Winchesters are heading south through the woods.'"

Glaring daggers, the policewoman clicked her radio on. "Found the Winchesters," she grunted. "They're heading south through the woods." She clicked the radio off again.

Dean's hand slid back up Sam's thigh, and he leisurely smeared the flat of his knife blade through the blood on Sam's skin. "Good. Let's give them some time to get far away, shall we?"

"We want to help your brother, Dean Winchester," the policewoman growled. "That's all we want."

Dean chuckled against Sam's neck, and his hand slid up higher. He pressed it between Sam's legs.

"My brother doesn't need help. Isn't that right, Sammy?"

Sam swallowed when Dean's hand kneaded him through the denim. "Y-yeah."

"I'm all you need, aren't I, baby?"

Dean was hard. Sam could feel it pressing against his back. The knife gently caressed his neck as he nodded shakily.

The policewoman was staring hard at Sam. "Sam, listen to me. We'll find you, I promise. We'll get you away from him."

Sam tried to shake his head. "N-no, I - I don't want that - "

Dean nuzzled Sam's neck, breathing against it. "Sam loves me. He doesn't need anyone else."

"Please, Sam, let us help you before - "

"What?" Dean laughed. "Before I _fuck _him? Way too late for that." Dean kept rubbing his hand over Sam's groin, making him start to stiffen. "I'm inside you every night, aren't I, baby? And you love it."

Sam's breath was getting short. He nodded, tilting his head to nuzzle affectionately against Dean. He was erect against his brother's hand, twitching in his jeans.

"Sammy's gotten so good at taking my cock. Trained my baby brother well."

The policewoman's look was hard, and if Sam's head had been clearer, he would have been impressed by her straight face. "Before you _hurt _him, Dean Winchester. We need to get your brother to safety before you hurt him."

Dean laughed, jabbing the knife up under Sam's chin, drawing a small pinprick of blood and making Sam sob. "And why would I do that?"

The woman's hands clenched. "Dean - "

Dean flicked the knife away from Sam's throat just as quickly as he'd pressed it there, kneeling down behind Sam and reaching around him to snatch the gun off the floor. He was still grinning when he flicked the safety off and aimed it at the policewoman.

_BANG_

Sam flinched at the thunderclap of gunfire. The policewoman's leg buckled and she collapsed, her hands pressing down on her thigh and trying to stop the blood that was pouring between her fingers.

"Sam!" she shouted, her voice thick with pain. "You don't have to stay with him!"

Dean's hand was grabbing Sam's arm with bruising force, dragging him away. "Come _on,_" Dean grunted. "We don't have much time."

When Sam hesitated, stumbling over his own feet, he felt a rough hand grab his chin, forcing him to look away from the bleeding policewoman and into his brother's eyes instead.

"We need to _leave, _Sam," Dean insisted. "The cops won't be thrown off for long. They'll kill us if they catch us."

Sam nodded, trying to clear his head. He ignored the shout of the policewoman as they ran out of the room.

Dean led them out of the warehouse, into the crisp, early morning light. He pointed at the sun. "There. If they're going south, we're going east, Sammy."

Sam followed Dean at a jog through the woods. "Not north?"

"Too obvious. Come on, Sam, we can't afford to waste time."

They marched hard. Sam's legs ached and his lungs burned. They were deep in the woods and the sun was well on its way to its zenith before Dean let them stop. Not that they could see the sun; thick clouds had rolled in, covering the woods in shadow. It was the first telltale drops that finally made Dean stop, letting Sam catch his breath. Dean said it was good; if it rained, it would hide their tracks.

They found an abandoned shed in the woods, barely bigger than an outhouse, containing one rusted-out bucket and a wooden handle that had probably belonged to a rake. There were a few rusted holes in the tin roof, but it was enough cover that Sam felt cozy and safe once he was inside with Dean. The raindrops _ting_ed on the thin metal roof.

Dean shut the crooked wooden door, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. He walked over to Sam and pulled him close with a gentleness that Sam hadn't felt all day.

"I'm so sorry I had to cut you, sweetheart."

Sam melted in Dean's arms. Forgiving him was easy, it always was. "It's okay. You did it to keep us safe."

Dean kissed his forehead. "I do everything to keep us safe." He pulled back, smiling down at Sam. "Hey, I bet you're hungry."

Sam was _starving. _His stomach rumbled at the reminder. "Do we have any food left?"

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a beat-up ziplock bag, stuffed with what looked like half-dried strips of cooked meat.

"Got leftovers."

Sam beamed.

The two of them sat in the corner of the shed and went through the whole ziplock bag of meat, strip by strip. Dean let Sam lick the grease from his fingers, and in turn he kissed the taste of it from Sam's mouth. It wasn't long before Sam was lying on a bed made of their clothes, full of food and full of Dean, moaning as his brother moved inside him.

"Love you, Sammy. Always gonna protect my baby boy."

Sam was glad the cops hadn't caught them. He _never_ wanted to be taken away from his big brother.


End file.
